Lost Within the Shadows
by FantazmFairy
Summary: Alternate univers. summaries in the first chapter.


Hi. Ok this is my first attempt at an E/C. I'm a huge fan of the coupling but haven't gotten around to writing my own fic yet. I have however been writhing Gerry/Emmy aka Gemmy aka our real life Erik/Christine…sounds lame I know. Those are on who hears the basic summary:

This is an alternate universe. Erik is 15 and still living amongst the gypsies. Christine is 13 and living in an orphanage. Raoul is un-existent for the time being, but if you care to know he's 14 lives with his mother, sits on his ass 24/7 eating bon bons, and picks split ends out of his long golden locks… were was I? Oh yea. The orphanage… a bad one at that, think Annie orphanage, takes a trip to see the traveling fair. Will the two meet?… Well duh.

Disclaimer: Yes I own Erik! He is mine. In fact I have him tied up and locked in my closet. Don't worry he gets fed, walked and bathed so don't call animal control on me…. I don't own shit.

A small group of young girls huddled closely to one another as a blistering gust of cold air swept though the icy streets of Paris. Clad in tattered frocks and thin cloaks, they made their way towards the bright lights of the Gypsy fair grounds. The Headmistress cast her piercing gaze over the bunch, daring anyone to so much as step five feet from the group.

A flash of bright color and the smell of insents surrounded the girls as they moved through the fair's entrance. The fire-eaters, knife jugglers, acrobats, and numerous oddities mesmerized each child with a sense of amazement and fear.

"Christine, you rotten child." Madame Desrochers raspy voice rang out over the commotion of the carnival. "What did I tell you about leaving the group."

"Sorry Madame I just wanted to get a closer look at the dancers, they are so graceful and pretty to watch." The small brunette child managed to squeak out her apologies.

"Don't let me catch you out of my site again girl." With that the headmistress lead the group of now frighten girls towards a black tent that was now gathering a large crowd of spectators.

The young child Christine was the only daughter of a poor violinist. Her mother had died shortly after her birth leaving her father alone to care for her. She had loved her father more than anything else in world. They had spent hours upon hours in their house by the sea composing beautiful music together. He would play arias on his violin and Christine would sing; her voice alone could rival that of an angels.

When her father died she was taken from the house by the sea and was now forced to dwell in a rat hole in which they called an orphanage. All she had left of her father was a bright red scarf, her voice, and the dream of one-day sharing it with the world.

The Headmistress of the orphanage had been relentless with cruelty from the very moment Christine was brought into her care. She couldn't stand the child's constant daydreaming and heart-filled humming. When it came to any form of happiness Madame Desrochers wouldn't have it. The only reason the girls were at the fair was because the Headmistress wanted to go and didn't trust the children in the house alone.

The candles were burning low and gave off a mysterious glow to the atmosphere inside of the tent. The crowd seemed to be encircling what looked to be a coffin propped up so that it was face was parallel to the dirt floor. A fat, greasy looking gypsy man stood by the coffin counting the number of people willing to pay for what ever the show may be.

Suddenly every candle save for the two next to the coffin blew out. "Heheh, welcome one and all to greatest sight in all the lands." The fat gypsy's voice sent an uncomfortable chill down Christine's spine as she crept closer towards the coffin. "I present to you the Living Corps." With that the man unlatched the locks on the sides of the box and disappeared into the shadows.

The lid slowly creaked open to reveal a boy clad in black. He looked to be no older than Christine herself. He was tall and had a muscular build, yet was thin and a bit lanky. He hair fell to his shoulders in a swarm of black ink. Upon his face was his only non-black apparel mysterious white mask. The mask covered his face from hairline to the top edge of his upper lip. Underneath the mask was a pair of bright yellow eyes that seemed to draw Christine forward.

Stepping out of the coffin the boy set three vases on a nearby table. In each vase he placed a single daffodil. Turning back to the crowd he began to sing. The sound of his angelic voice however seemed to come from the flowers.

No words could ever describe his voice. Even to say it were beautiful was too little and filled Christine's soul with and unfamiliar flame. She found herself moving towards the boy in an unconscious daze.

The flowers stopped singing as she reached him, and a new aria arose from his lips alone. Christine recognized the aria as one of the many her father used to play for her. Out of sheer instinct she joined him in song and together their merged voiced filled the hearts of every individual within the tent.

As the aria came to a close the boy gave a polite bow and placed her hand close to his lips yet did not admit any contact from them. Out of thin air he produced a rose and offered it to her out of gratitude for gracing him with her lovely voice.

Meanwhile the crowds cheers and applauding had stopped and a few individuals where calling out "Take off the mask" or "Show us your face." Stepping away from her the boy reached up and ripped the mask from his face.

His face if you could call it that was a distorted mess. His right eye drooped a bit and his nose was completely nonexistent. His cheeks were drawn so tightly you could make out the blue lines of his veins underneath. His lips were the only thing left untouched by the distortion. The boy truly resembled a living corps.

The crowd's responses to the boy's face were absolutely horrid. Women fainted left and right while the ones remained standing his their faces in either their husbands shoulder or their own hands. Small children screamed and hid in the folds of their mother's dress and the men, oh the men were the worst. They shouted damnations and jeering comments that should have never been said in the presence of a mere boy as they though any projectile they could find at him. All Christine could do was give the boy a sad yet sincere smile to let him know there was someone who did not fear his face.

Tossing their coins at the boy the crowd began to lessen till only Christine was left in his presence. "Your voice is truly beautiful." She tried to make conversation with him.

"Thank you, you're the first person to ever tell me that." He fastened the mask back in place and offered her an uncomfortable smile. "Yours is absolutely breath taking."

A small blush rose to her cheeks. "Thank you, my father used to tell me that all the time but I really never believed him."

"Christine!" Madame Desrochers' acid like droll cut thought the air like a knife through flesh. "Christine get out here NOW!"

"Excuse me monsieur." With that she ran from the tent towards the angry headmistress.

She found Madame Desrochers standing next to the very gypsy man from the show. "Christine, this is monsieur Javert." The woman gave her a cruel smirk. "He has taken an interest in your singing."

"Thank you monsieur." Christine dipped into a polite curtsey.

"Did I say you could speak, now then Javert hear has offered me a great sum of money for custody of you, and well frankly how could I decline." The headmistress gave a low cackle. "Have a nice time my dear we will truly miss you." And with that she walked away leaving a frightened and confused Christine in her wake.

TBC

Ok first attempts as I said before so don't slaughter me with flames. Review if you like.


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